Picture Perfect
by Zikkie
Summary: It's Matt's birthday, and he knows that this year is going to be no different from the others. However, he couldn't help but hope that maybe, maybe Mello would notice.


**February 1st**

Mello disappeared a few days before my birthday. Which sucked for me. Actually, he didn't really disappear, but he only came in our room when it was time to sleep. And in the morning, he'd be gone again, to God knows where.

I'd been thinking, with naive hope, that he could be with me for at least the day I turned older(I was beginning to doubt our friendship). Not that I enjoyed the aging process. I couldn't imagine myself sitting on a rocking chair on a front porch, with a hunched figure and graying hair...

Okay, I just did, so what? My point stands.

The moment I woke up, I knew immediately that this birthday was going to be dull. I knew that L would send me a present, usually a game for my DS, and it would come three days late. I knew Linda would give me a box of chocolates, which I would feed to Mello. I knew that Mello would _try _to not get in trouble, because he'd want me to get in trouble with him. I knew that after we got in trouble, Roger would confiscate Mello's chocolate stash and my games(because he hates us). I knew that afterwards, we'd dupe Roger's plans and take out our emergency pack, which consisted of: seven bars of chocolate, three of my favorite games and my other DS. The only difference this year was that finally, _finally _Roger would stop bringing me a birthday cake during lunch and sing a Happy Birthday song.

And, I was turning thirteen.

The morning went by pretty quickly, and soon I found myself wandering around the orphanage, not really wanting to go to eat lunch. They were serving salad. I hate salad.

Some other older kids decided they wanted to skip lunch, too, so I wasn't alone in the front yard. I walked past them, straight towards the welcoming sight of trees. Okay, forgive me for sounding cliche or something, but there was this clearing that only I knew about. It was deep into the forest, so I didn't have to worry about little kids ruining the peace. I came there sometimes after lunch or when I skip classes. Sometimes I go there to smoke. Smoking was a habit I developed about six months ago. I'm a little young for that, you could say. Not my fault! Roger's the one who always leaves a pack of smokes near his office.

I don't smoke anymore, though. Mello made sure of that.(I think it's awfully kind and caring of him to care about my well-being, but I'd never tell him that).

I reached my clearing, can't helping but smile as the loud chatter of other kids faded. It was so quiet and unusually warm for a February day. That was okay, though.

"Matt?"

I knew this was too good to be true. "Yes?" I said, looking at Mello. He was sitting under a tree, leaning against its thick branch. Hiding my surprise, I said, "Did you come here to avoid me?"

Mello was a bit more open with his feelings. "What are you doing here?!" He snapped. I stepped closer, eying whatever he had in his hands.

"To get away from stress of classes and homework?" It was apparent that he didn't remember my birthday, to my dismay.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said fiercely.

I asked, "Why not?"

Mello scowled. "Because, you idiot, you're supposed to be back inside, blowing out candles and being swarmed by little children, the little demons, who want a piece of your chocolate cake."

"Mel, I'm thirteen now," I said slowly. Well, at least he remembered, right?

Mello blinked, the fire in his eyes slowly retreating. "_Oh..."_

I adjusted my goggles around my eyes uncomfortably. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes, it is a problem!" Mello suddenly shouted. His eye twitched and he raised his arm to throw something at me. A look passed over his face, one I couldn't decipher, and he drew back his hand. He scowled again. "I thought you were turning twelve."

I almost laughed. "I'm about, what? Two centimeters short of you? Do I look twelve?" I stepped closer to him as if wanting him to really look at me. He didn't reply, so I leaned down to look at the object he was holding. "Can I see?"

"No," he blustered. He glared at me. "Screw you."

"I bet you'd love to do so." I smirked. _No, no, no! _An annoying, squeaky, tiny voice inside of me screamed. _That's not what you meant to say!_

The expression on Mello's face was priceless. It, however, was replaced by his own signature smirk. "I don't. But, Matty, I didn't know you want to. I mean, all you had to do was _ask."_

Having no decent comeback, I watched as Mello stood up and walked away, carrying the mystery thing with him.

--

Mello was gone again when I came back to our room. Who knows where that chocoholic went?

My eyes scanned the room, landing on a poorly hidden object underneath my roommate's bed. Curious, I knelt down and pulled it out. I did a mental victory lap when I realized this was what Mello was carrying earlier.

The cover was made of leather, which led me to believe it was his possession. Because we all know that aside from chocolate, leather was Mello's next favorite thing.

With closer examination, I find out that one, it was a photo album. Two, Mello had had it for a very long time. The spine was worn out and the cover didn't look exactly brand new. When I opened the front cover, there was a page with the words, '**Keep Out**' were written in sloppy handwriting. In the same handwriting, under it was, **'If I find out you've looked at this, I'll kill you!**'

Smiling, I turned the page. It displayed a picture of Mello; he was five, a caption stated. There was (chocolate) cake smeared all over his face. I remembered and my smile grew wider.

The next picture was of him grinning goofily. Someone unseen was giving him bunny ears with two fingers. Then, I realized that the unseen person was me. It was kind of obvious, because you could see some of my striped shirt I'd worn that day. What alarmed me was the fact that it looked like I had been purposely cut out from the picture. Emotions swirled in me. The first one was anger.

_He's practically nothing without me!_ I silently fumed. _I bail him out of trouble when he needs to, and I buy his chocolate, for Christ's sake!_

The next was hurt.

Of course, this was Mello; he was arrogant, self-centered. It was normal of him, probably, to do such a thing to my picture. I was emotionally wounded because I remembered that day. L had visited; it was one of those days when he wasn't busy and could drop by. He gave Mello a chocolate cake. 'Cherish it,' he'd said. 'The chocolate is very exquisite and delicious.'

Did Mello even take L's suggestion into consideration? No. Immediately, he'd yelled for me to get my butt over there, and I'd obediently done so(Jeez, I'm such a puppy). Because we were practically inseperable at that time, Mello _ordered _me to eat the cake with him. Without hesitation, I dug in. We had been sort of sugar-high before, so, as you can tell, eating a whole chocolate cake didn't help. By our third slice, we were laughing giddily. Mello started the fight. He flung a piece of cake at my hair and remarked on how great it went with my hair. I'd smeared chocolate icing all over his face, and that was why he was half-covered in chocolate. Then L let Near borrow his camera and the five-year old albino took a picture of us, which I happily posed for. Yep: the bunny ears. When Mello found out Near had the picture, he complained about how his rep was going to be ruined, so he got me to chase Near all over the orphanage for the camera. We finally caught the albino and got the camera with minimal violence and crying(Near). I'd always thought Mello deleted the picture, but I guessed he managed to print it first or something. And if I'd known he had, I would have assumed he'd throw it away.

...Guess not.

I turned the page, simultaneously hearing the door being opened.

Out of panic, I dove forward, stuffing half of my arm length under Mello's bed. It was enough so Mello wouldn't be able to see that I was looking through the album. I knew he wasn't going to be happy if he found out.

My roommate looked at me as if I'd turn into a demented duck. "Matt...?" There was question in his eyes. I followed his line of sight, which led to my half-hidden arms.

I quickly sat up, leaving the album underneath. "Yes, Melly dearest?" I said sweetly.

"Don't call me that," he said crossly. He huffed and stepped in, sitting on the edge of his bed. "..._Matty_," he added with a devious smile.

"Touche, MarshMello." I was ready for an argument to break out.

"Mattilda," Mello sneered.

"Mellybean."

"Matty-kins."

"Mello Yellow." Oh, I had more up my sleeves.

"Shut up, Mail." We were using real names now?

"Make me, _Mihael_," I said casually. I could feel Mello mentally strangling me, but I knew he'd never. My best friend never hurt me all the years we've known each other. I wonder if it's because of my resemblance of a puppy.

I grabbed my DS, flipping it open and starting to play a game.

"Happy birthday," I heard Mello say. I leaned back, engrossed in my animated pixel world. Mello shuffled around, although I didn't look up.

"So, you saw it, huh?" He said.

"What?" I was still focused on the screen.

"This." The photo album was thrown at me, causing my hands to let go of my DS. I glared at Mello with a look that said _Are you happy now?_

"Now that I have your undivided attention," Mello smiled like a Cheshire cat. He looked down at me with a strong sense of inferiority. "aren't you going to open your present?" He paused. I could almost see the gears turning in his genius mind. "Well, open it again." He looked displeased.

I sighed. "Mello, I was only curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," he said blankly.

"Satisfaction brought it back," I retorted, grabbing the album anyway(again, I'm such a puppy). "Aw, Mels, you didn't wrap it," I cooed, switching tones. "How sweet of you." I pulled a cute face.

"Love you, too, Matt." My best friend rolled his eyes.

I rolled mine in return. Nonetheless, I flipped the book open to a random page. Coincidentally, it was the page with the picture of Mello, and I was still cut out. Sigh. "Why'd you have to cut me out?" I mumbled.

"I didn't," Mello said quietly. He munched on his chocolate bar, silent.

I arched an eyebrow. I looked on.

"Check the back." Now Mello looked annoyed, still chewing on his chocolate.

I did as he said, skipping a few more pictures of Mello when he was little.

"I've been saving the pictures for a while," Mello explained as I continued skimming. "Thought I'd give it to you this year."

I reached a part of the album where, surprisingly, there was a picture with me in it. The image was of me and Mello sitting together in front of a Christmas tree. I realized that from then on, I was actually in the pictures. The photo that followed had Mello dressed up as a chocolate bar, six years ago. Beside him was me, dressed as a Mudkip. I chuckled, reliving those days when Mello wasn't so afraid to be an idiot for a while.

The last page contained a torn picture. Of me. I was grinning, chocolate smeared around the area of my mouth. My hair was disheveled, goggles hastily pushed up so my face was clear of bangs. Only one of my arms were visible, because the other was stretched to the side, as if...

I looked up at Mello. He was staring out the window, finishing his chocolate. He didn't meet my gaze.

Smiling, and cheeks warming a little, I gently pried the picture out. I flipped back to its pair, sliding it in so it fit nice and perfect.

"Why'd you tear it off in the first place?" I wanted to know.

"Don't know," Mello muttered, still not looking at me.

"Mello," I drawled. "Was it because you wanted to stare at my beautiful face all the time without the distraction of your own face?"

"Shut up, you moron!" Mello almost yelled. He threw a pillow at me.

Deep, deep, deep down, I was touched. Mello not only remembered my birthday, but he also got me something. And I was so happy to have something to remember those old times, because I couldn't bear to forget them. I wanted to thank Mello a billion times.

I easily avoided the pillow; Mello was someone I was used to. Which meant that I was used to the fact that objects may be thrown at me at sudden times. "Love you, too, Mels."

* * *

**Late, I know, but this is for Matt's birthday. Happy birthday, Matty!**


End file.
